Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

It seems redundant to say remember the past. What else is there to remember except the past.

Unless you are of one of those jerks who also remembers the present and the future will have been.

The past. I knew a man once name of CornBob. A bit of a twist on his given name, Robert J. Korner. No matter what circumstances you were in, no matter what situation was occurring to you, no matter what problem was vexing you over, he always had the same advice. He'd say, "Forget it, it's past". He dropped dead one day between his kitchen & his bathroom from a sudden massive heart attack. I went to his funeral and sat up on the hill with my back against a gravestone smoking a j and watching the people gathered around his coffin listening to the minister speak. When it was over and everyone was gone I watched the two gravediggers lower CornBob's box into the earth. Then they filled the hole with dirt. When they left I walked down the hill & stood next to that bare spot and smelled the disturbed earth in the air. I took a moment to listen to the wind and felt the heat of the sun. Then I said, "You got yourself good & dead now, doncha? Forget it, Robert, it's past."

I may join the French Foreign Legion.
Where men go to forget

Meanwhile

I still remember when I was god's gift to women

the dilemma of the past is so much has passed you can spend the rest of your life trying to remember all that was. i believe that is a good example of the word 'futility.'

it's no wonder sane people have advocated being in the now. they instinctively knew the past has passed for good reason... it's done. but 'now'... that is something that never passes. that's quite remarkable.

<center>when zen no when

what's past is last</center>
the no-name saloon smelled of dead smoke and stale beer
but the patrons were still there counting the times that passed
and came up with the number 784 but continued counting
as if they actually had that many memories of what the saloon
used to be before the smoke had died and the beer got stale
all the while sitting like pigeons on a perch smoking and drinking
the draft beer that never ran out like a fountain of youth.
someone farted and somebody yelled out 'another round!'

Beats me Cecil
You know more about Zen than I do
you be the most koaney writer here

to tell you the truth I think it is all now, past present and future, some folks live in the past, somefolks try so hard to live in the now, and some buy lottery tickets and live in the future.

Friend of mine wandered into that saloon in deadwood south dakota, there was a dead indian laying on the pool table.

It was a spooky story, and I think it was true.

What do I know about PTSD
not much just what I have picked up from reading the veterans here and on litkicks.

and how they have dealt with their memories.

we bandy words my friend

you say fade memories

and I say they will always be there

in remote consciousness what ever that is.

maybe that is the same thing.

Some people are living in the past, you seem like you got a point to make Cecil and I am not getting it




Seems like